


Nocturne & Prologue: Imoen & Dynaheir

by cbrachyrhynchos



Series: The Other Bhaalspawn [1]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Bathing/Washing, F/F, Male Player Character - Freeform, Rating: PG13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 00:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17478041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cbrachyrhynchos/pseuds/cbrachyrhynchos
Summary: Imoen and Dynaheir share a room and more in Nashkel.





	Nocturne & Prologue: Imoen & Dynaheir

The troop dragged themselves, practically dragged each other into the inn at Nashkel. Everyone drooped from the dirt and mud that covered them. Even Dynaheir's noble bearing sagged from fatigue.

Imoen initially thought the woman was like one of the tourists who bought their way into Candlekeep for a fortnight to gawk at the books. They barely spoke with the scriveners and scholars, and didn't see Imoen at all except to offer a few coppers to brush their horse, or worse, a few silver for a night of whoring. The ones looking for a prostitute were the marks that Imoen stole from. Then, she sicked Hero on them for a good scare.

But even though Dynaheir talked like a noble she didn't turn her nose up at the nightly camp chores, or from helping them fight their way out of scrapes either.

And at least the woman wasn't barking mad like the first mage they met, or creepy leery like the one lurking outside of Nashkel.

"I don't care what the rest of you do." Jaheira announced. "I'm paying for a room, with Khalid. Our own room." Jaheira strode across the inn to accost the innkeeper without even waiting for Hero to shrug.

"I g-g-guess we'll see you in the m-m-morning," Khalid said. He followed more discretely.

Imoen sighed with relief, as did Hero. It was just what she needed, a night without having every move criticized by the prickly druid.

Dynaheir smiled, "I will share a room with Imoen, one with water for washing, and more privacy than the river."

"Minsc will guard with sword and boot! And Hero with prayer!"

"I suspect your services will not be necessary. Inquire about adjoining rooms should we need aid."

"Why doesn't anyone ask who I want to room with?" Imoen said to no one in particular.

\--

The room was as well equipped as Winthrop's best, if a bit less clean to Imoen's critical eye. The bed was big enough. The autumn air was starting to get brisk, so Imoen didn't mind sharing a bed. Dynaheir sniffed cautiously, then waved to give it her approval. The mage sat down on a bench near the wooden tub, and waited for the servants to finish filling it. Imoen stacked her pack near the foot of the bed, and walked around the room taking a mental catalog of the ways in and out. Dynaheir dismissed the maid with instructions to pick up their clothes for the washer woman in the morning, and began undressing, without bothering to use the screen.

"You're lucky to have Minsc," Imoen said. "He's completely devoted to you. I'm surprised you're not sleeping in a room with him."

Dynaheir laughed. "Minsc worships me. He worships my elder sisters, the wychlaran who are the real power of the land we are from. He has taken a vow to the wychlaran and to me, and I think it lies easy on him. The kind of love thou speak of would confuse him. I guard his virtue as much as he does mine. I do not seek the company of men, nor he of anyone."

The naked witch caressed the surface of the bathwater and spoke a few words. It began to steam in the cool fall air.

"It's not so different, Thou hast thine brother, Hero."

"He's not really my brother. He's also not really named Hero, it's just a dumb nickname that seemed to stick."

"Interesting. I'm rarely wrong about these things. You two are born to power. Thou spends it on trickery and japes. Hast thy sisters, the other women in your house, not given you instruction?"

"Gorion didn't like it for some reason. And I didn't really have any sisters. The maids lived outside of the keep and the scholars were just so scholarly."

"Wilt thou kindly wash my back?" Dynaheir asked.

Imoen took the rough cloth from Dynaheir's hand and proceeded to scrub the dark woman's back. She was uncomfortably aware of the heat from the mage's brown skin warming her own fingertips. Imoen regretted the rough calluses from work in the inn and the bowstring against the older woman's back. No, not that much older, just more experienced.

Dynaheir stood up in the tub, and gestured for a towel. Imoen passed one to her, and made a good show of looking at her boots.

"Undress and clean up before coming to bed. Among the wychlaran, women who shed blood in battle together are family. Wayward and lost thou art, but I would call thee friend."

"Yeah, ok. You want to be my friend? I'm not Khalid go be pushed around."

"I don't understand, Khalid's a man. Thou art not."

"I'm not your servant, or your maid. I'm Imoen. And if you keep pulling that 'wayward and lost' act, I'll find a table in the common room." She reached for her dagger. There were five ways she could kill the mage. Minsc would be a problem but Hero would back Imoen up. He would hate himself afterwards, but he'd always back her up. No, Imoen quelled the sudden impulse and moved her hand away from her belt.

"I apologize, Imoen. I am not used to ... your language. I was raised to command and I see I have insulted ... you. I forget that in this land, you use the same words for familiarity and contempt. For that I apologize." The witch stepped out of the tub and put a hand on Imoen's shoulder. "Come, please. I only wished to offer the use of the tub, and while the bed looks dubious, it is probably more comfortable than the stable or common room. Sisters of battle serve each other."

Dynaheir let the towel drop and touched the surface of the water again. The witch invoked a cantrip to warm it. "I find a bath eases the burdens of the road. Come, please."

Imoen self-consciously undressed and sat down in the tub. It didn't have room to stretch out her legs. She took the cleaning-cloth in hand and tried to ignore Dynaheir.

The witch conjured a hairbrush from one of the bags and began brushing Imoen's red hair. Not that there was much hair to brush. Imoen kept it short to save time putting it up before chores. Through the window, she heard Khalid and Jaheira go at it again, or still. Imoen was (mostly) innocent but she certainly wasn't naive. Candlekeep had an entire locked room of illustrated texts that provided her with an education in subjects beyond lock-picking. Some spying clarified the flowery metaphors Imoen initially found baffling. The sounds easily inspired Imoen's rich imagination. But the adventuring life offered Imoen less privacy than Candlekeep, where she knew every softly dark corner, storeroom, and attic.

Dynaheir stopped, breaking Imoen's reverie. "I apologize, I have disturbed thee."

"Yes, no, not that way. It felt good. It's just, you're so beautiful and ..." Imoen gestured toward the window where the sounds reached a peak, then stilled.

"Thy ears are better than mine. The passion of lovers can be infectious. Thou art jealous, envious?"

"Hornier than one of Winthrop's cats." Imoen held up the washing cloth. "Wilt thou wash my back?" It wasn't a good line, but she wasn't a bard.

Dynaheir stepped forward and caressed Imoen's cheeks. With gentle pressure, she guided Imoen's head back against the lip of the tub, back until Imoen was looking up at Dynaheir's face, as Dynaheir bowed down. The kiss when it landed on Imoen's lips was tender. Dynaheir drew back. "Thy will is mine," the witch said. "Your back? Forgive me, the water is cooling."

"Wait, will Minsc have to kick my butt all the way back to Candlekeep for that kiss?"

"Will thine Hero? I think our guardians can understand our happiness. I must speak with thee. There must be an understanding between thee and myself. I think it will fall easy on your ears."

"Yeah, shoot."

"I want thee. Thou art beautiful and I want thee. That is why I wish to be with thee tonight, no matter what might come in the days to come."

Imoen didn't have a snappy response to this. No one called her beautiful before, except for Winthrop when he was trying to be more fatherly. Then again, leaving Candlekeep was one big adventure. She responded by jumping nimbly out of the tub and tackling Dynaheir with a big wet hug. Someone else would clean up in the morning, and she wanted to know which of the stories about witches she read were true.

Notes: I've taken the liberty of writing Dynaheir in something of a hybrid plain speech, instead of her in-game pronoun use, which doesn't seem right for a character of her intelligence.


End file.
